In Fire
by Hamstadini
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MANGA VOLUME 12!  Eight years after Claire's separation from Raki, she finds her prayers answered... just not in the way she had hoped.  ILLOGICAL CHAPTER 4 RESUBMITTED.
1. A Prayer Answered

**Disclaimer: Don't own, and glad I don't. Too much pressure.**

In Fire by Nathan Yuen

Her body moved atop his in a slow rhythm, trying to savor every moment of their joining. Fingers trailed down the flanks of his body, leaving searing trails of moisture in their wake. His skin was like velvet. The way he touched her... He kissed her back eagerly with light nips on her smiling lips. Her body undulated, faster and faster. The world ran with sweat. He was breathing so hard - or was it her? As she reached the brink of ecstasy, she opened her mouth to say his name –

And then Claire's eyes snapped open.

Reality came crashing down on her; she sighed and picked herself up from her resting spot at the base of the tree. She made her way to the nearby waterfall where she could free the dirt from her skin… and also wash away the slick evidence of the dream on her uniform.

As the water pounded on her back, she reflected on the dream of her and Raki. It wasn't a dream of her and the boy she recalled, no; it was a dream of her and the man he might be now.

The dreams had always been coming since they parted ways, but they had been growing more explicit and intense since the "Spirits of Pieta" arrived in the southlands. Perhaps it was because they were close to the region where Claire first met him…

_But is this really important right now?_ she questioned. She brushed her sentiments aside by slowly exhaling.

The former warrior of the organization stepped out of the waterfall and retrieved her uniform. The Spirits of Pieta were in dangerous territory now, with only one goal: find and destroy Priscilla. The four senior warriors – Miria, Helen, Deneve, and Claire – scouted in a grid search pattern while the three junior warriors – Tabitha, Cynthia, and Yuma – set up base camp. At intervals they would return to get periodic updates from the Dark Silver Eye of the group, Tabitha. So far, she had sensed nothing – but Priscilla could be hiding her aura as well.

So Miria had devised a system – after fashioning several whistles out of a hardwood branch, she parceled one out to each of them. "If you encounter Priscilla, or are in need of help, use this. It can be heard for miles."

Of course, Helen had something to say. "Won't that give away our position?"

Miria nodded. "That's why you use the whistle only in the last resort."

Everyone knew what that meant – a long messy battle where either the Spirits of Pieta would die or Priscilla would escape again, leading to another long fruitless search.

A more favorable scenario would be to find Priscilla's lair, report back to the others, and then ambush her with all their strength. And then…

Claire clenched her fist as she walked away from the waterfall. _And then I will avenge Teresa and Ophelia, and all the rest that Priscilla has given grief to. And then I will be free to search for Raki._

The leaves crunched silently underfoot as Claire reflected on what a blessing in disguise their parting was. Though pure willpower had saved the boy time and again, Claire doubted that he would have survived the battle of Pieta, nor would he have been content to simply stay in the northlands for seven years. Wherever he was now, it was probably far better than where he could have been.

But that left Claire wondering from time to time where Raki was, and how he had grown over the years. Surely he wasn't the man in her dreams, though that would be ideal. Eight years had passed – he would be twenty, twenty-one summers old now. How exactly had he grown? Had he mastered the sword, wandering freely as they once did together? She briefly closed her eyes in remembrance. She could almost recall his scent…

His scent…

A touch of the spicy southern wildflower, mixed in with something akin to Rabonan lavender, and the sweet fragrance of maple…

Claire's eyes snapped open. She was no longer remembering; she was actively sniffing the air. It was a faint scent, but it was there.

Raki was nearby. In Priscilla's territory. Which meant he was in danger.

Shoving all thoughts aside, she sprinted forward, threading through the trees rapidly while taking care not to lose track of the scent. Her mind was numb as the trees blurred by her. All she could do was follow the ever-strengthening trail.

Her journey came to an abrupt stop at the bank of a fast-flowing river, where she lost the trail. Frustration nearly exploded from her chest; she would have toppled a tree with a punch if it wouldn't have given her position away. She settled for gritting her teeth.

Five hundred paces downriver a doe emerged on her side of the riverbank, craning its head downwards to lap water from the running river, then up again to regard the bystander. Balefully, Claire returned the stare. _I don't suppose you've seen Raki around here by any chance?_ She asked it silently.

**Sss-thuk**

An arrow slammed into the doe's neck, staggering it. A second one glanced off its temple, and a final third stabbed through its eardrum. The hapless beast fell, dead before it realized what had hit it.

But Claire had only one thought: _Those shots came from this side of the bank!_

In an instant she was sprinting through the trees again, zipping through the woods with frenzied ease. Seconds later she skidded to a stop at the edge of a clearing.

Dappled sunlight pierced through the cover of leaves, revealing _him_ in mid-draw with another arrow, like Orion the Hunter. He was taller now, more muscular and rugged, with a determined air that could shatter steel. So different…

And yet she knew it was him.

"Raki," she whispered.

Hearing her, he turned…

And the world held its breath in that moment.

The bow fell from nerveless hands as his jaw dropped. "Claire…"

The warrior took three strides forward, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply, drinking him in, a woman returning home after eight years' exile.

Raki pulled away, breaking the embrace and looking down. "Claire… after all these years… I waited–"

But Claire wasn't listening. She was focused on the foliage past Raki, where the bushes were rustling. _Someone's coming!_

A smooth cream-colored leg emerged from the forest, followed by a body and a face that Claire recognized all too well.

Her eyes were now hazel, and her hair now chestnut brown, but Claire was certain that it was Priscilla facing her. If that wasn't enough Claire could feel the massive amounts of yoma energy rolling off the demon in front of her, contained so tightly that it wouldn't register on a long-distance search, but still overwhelming when viewed directly.

Claire cursed under her breath. She couldn't have found Raki at a worse time.

"Raki, run and don't look back," she said, shoving the boy behind her," I'll hold her off, and I'll find you again; this I promise."

"But –"

"Don't worry about me; just go!" Without sparing a glance backward, Claire brought out the whistle tucked beneath the folds of her uniform and blew - hard.

A piercing shriek ripped through the air, startling birds into panicked flight. Claire smiled grimly – help would be on the way shortly.

_And now, to buy Raki time._ Unsheathing her sword she advanced in a stride, then a gait, a lope and finally a run and a leap overhead. Claire saw befuddlement cross Priscilla's features when the warrior resheathed her sword. _For Ilena!_ she cried in silent triumph.

Fissures formed underneath Priscilla's feet as Claire came down upon her with the Windcutter technique, blade slicing at the awakened being. Claire's heart rose as every lightning fast strike hit home – then her heart sank again as she saw how ineffective they were. No cuts, not even a tear in Priscilla's sundress. The awakened girl caught the downward slashing blade and rammed her other palm home in Claire's gut, sending the warrior crashing into a nearby oak and splitting it in half.

Claire coughed, spitting blood. It was worse than facing Dauph's biggest projectiles. The sound of footsteps made her look up. Like birds of prey they swooped in. Helen. Deneve. Miria. The Spirits of Pieta had arrived. Claire's heart soared along with their chances.

Miria kept her eyes on her opponent. "Well, looks like you lost the spread, Helen. I'll be asking for payment after this."

Helen cursed. "Damn it Claire, you couldn't have found her twenty minutes earlier?"

Claire rose. She had similar sentiments to what Deneve said openly: "Maybe if you didn't gamble at all, you wouldn't have lost ten beras."

The energy flooding from Priscilla could overwhelm them all, and were they facing Priscilla for the first time they all probably would have been poleaxed with fear. But they had months to train and plan, and so the Spirits of Pieta kept their cool and noted one important factor in their favor: Priscilla was keeping her human form. The plan was already written; it just needed to be implemented.

Miria nodded, and gave the word. "Go."

Deneve and Claire flanked the girl, Deneve scissoring with her two swords and Claire doing another Windcutter. Claire felt the sword sliding across the skin of her opponent but not cutting. She looked up and saw Priscilla simply standing there, impervious to the assault.

Then her arms shot out, each palm slamming into the chest of a warrior and sending them flying. Miria wasted no time joining the fray; she was literally everywhere at once using phantom speed and afterimages to bewilder her opponent. Priscilla looked confused but uninjured by the blows.

"You ready yet!" one of the Mirias cried to Helen.

"Yeah, yeah, hold on! This still takes time you know!" Helen's right arm twisted inward on itself, tension building in muscle and sinew to form the most destructive technique that the Spirits of Pieta knew: Jean's drill stab.

Claire rose, but found no way to join the battle as Miria kept up her one-woman melee. All she could do was stand on guard, ready to assist.

Seconds later, Helen bellowed triumphantly. "All right, done!" She raised her sword and charged, releasing the arm into a furious tornado.

As if on cue, Priscilla found the real Miria and backhanded the warrior's temple, sending her sprawling into the base of a tree, unconscious. With her other hand the awakened reached out and stopped Helen's charge. The sword tip ground to a halt in her hand.

Claire's mouth went dry as the awakened being swatted Helen aside. _The most powerful technique that we know – and it didn't even prick her palm._

Claire's resolve firmed; she brought her Claymore out into a double-handed grip. _If I'm not able to avenge you, Teresa, I will put all my strength into this blow so that others may find a mortal wound and avenge_ all _of us. _She closed her eyes and prepared to summon her yoma energy one last time –

Until she felt a gentle hand placed atop her wrist.

"Claire, stop this."

She gasped, and opened her startled eyes to look into Raki's solemn face. "What are you still doing here!? I told you to run!"

Raki shook his head. "I won't run. You can't do this, and even if you could, I won't let you."

Inadvertently, Raki stoked Claire's confusion into outrage., "'Won't let me?' Raki, I'm trying to protect you! This isn't an ordinary girl! You probably don't even know who she is!"

For an instant, infinite regret flickered in Raki's eyes. "I know exactly who she is." Raki turned and walked toward the girl; for an unfathomable reason, Claire's stomach soured with dread. She nearly screamed as Priscilla's arms shot out towards Raki –

-and wrapped around his chest, her nose nuzzling the crook between his neck and clavicle. Raki embraced her in return, arms meeting behind her back, pressing her to him.

Claire felt like she had stepped off a cliff into nowhere.

Raki looked up at the warrior he hadn't seen for eight years. "Claire, this is Priscilla," he said, and Claire felt a strange tightening in her chest at his next two words...

"My wife."

To Be Continued.

**Author's Postscript: I will explain my intent behind this fic when it is concluded in six chapters time. Right now, enjoy the drama and the action.**

** Sideris, Ikarus Onesun, and Wanderer are more than family - they're prereaders. Thanks guys for all your help! This fic would be half the greatness without you.  
**


	2. Miracles Granted

**Disclaimer: Now are you glad that I don't own Claymore? Like I thought…**

Miria's eyes crept open in the bright sunlight to blink once, then twice. Her head throbbed madly, but not enough for her to prevent her from realizing that she was in a bed, under covers. Craning her head, she took stock of her surroundings.

She was in a wooden house, much too large to be defined as a cabin. Sunlight annoyed her through a window on her right side, the wall flush against her bed. To her left on the far side of the room she could see Deneve laying in a bed much like hers, her body wrapped in bindings. A fire crackled somewhere nearby, warming the room. And at the foot of the bed Claire sat on a wooden chair, simply staring out the next window over.

There was something amiss about the taciturn warrior, and it took Miria a few moments to figure out what it was. After their defeat in the north, the Spirits of Pieta had fashioned new uniforms to represent their casting off the Organization. These uniforms were functional as well as symbolic: purely black, the clothes helped camouflage them in shadow and in shade; in the day in the freezing white north, the black stood out against the white landscape and aided in finding a wounded or lost comrade. But now…

_But now_, Miria thought, _Clare wears the uniform like a new widow._

Before Miria could think on what could make such a change, Claire turned and saw her leader staring. "Oh, you're awake. Rise slowly – Priscilla hit you hard."

Miria's hand went to her temple and felt the wrappings around her head. "How long - ?"

"Two hours, maybe more. The sun has not yet reached the hills. The others should be recovering soon as well."

As if on cue, the others began tossing. "Oooooh…" Miria could hear Helen moan, "did anyone get the name of that carriage driver?"

"I believe it was Priscilla," Deneve said weakly.

Heeding Claire's advice, Miria rose slowly, looking at her comrade. "Did we beat her?"

Claire shook her head.

Miria heard Helen sigh from across the room. "Figures. Well, I doubt you could've done anything by yourself. Just means more searching, I guess."

Claire's eyes flickered past Miria, supposedly at Helen. "She didn't run away." Her eyes flickered toward the window.

"Wait, WHAT?" As quickly as they were able, the Spirits of Pieta rose, gathered their swords leaning against their respective bedposts and hobbled to where Claire was looking out the window. There Priscilla was, deceptively innocent, kneeling down on some well-tilled ground a hundred paces away, inspecting the leaves of several plants.

A frown creased Miria's brow. _The most powerful and feared Awakened being in the land…gardening?_

Helen was already formulating plans. "Her back's to us – she doesn't know we've recovered. I'll have the drill stab ready in a few moments. Deneve, Claire, if you can cut open the wall, we can –"

"No."

Everyone looked at Claire. "What?"

"I said no. I want to talk to her."

Helen spoke slowly, gently, as if she were explaining something to a child. "Claire, this is the most powerful awakened being in all the land. She's killed countless innocents, burned gods-know-how-many villages. She's slaughtered three warriors at least, and you yourself told us of how she killed Teresa – "

Claire cut off Helen with a glare. "Don't presume to tell me what I already know."

Undaunted, Helen folded her arms across her chest. "Then tell us why, instead of taking this wonderful opportunity to attack, we're going to wait around for you to talk."

That was when Miria noticed Claire's expression – it was one of fraying concern, directed towards a certain place. Miria followed her gaze, and Helen and Deneve did the same.

They all ended up looking at a man, one side of his body visible as he went to work stripping the meat from a deer carcass. The mans brow was furrowed, as if his mind was far away from the here and now.

Helen noticed first. "Hey, isn't that – "

Deneve narrowed her eyes. "Yes, it's the boy."

Miria nodded, "But what is he doing here? Unless – "

Priscilla paused in her inspection, and glanced towards the man. Her expression changed to that of worry.

Worry the same caliber as Claire's.

Helen reeled back, choking. "You don't mean to tell me that he and she – they're – "

The look on Claire's face said it all. Though Deneve said nothing, her face softened a little.

For a moment, there was no sound save for the crackling of fire. Then Miria sprang into action.

"Helen, you and I are going to report to the others and see what they have done. Deneve, I need you to stay at the outskirts of this location, reporting intermittently in their movements, changes of this location, everything. I also need you as first-line reconnaissance in case everything goes downhill. And Claire…" she turned and placed a sympathetic hand on Claire's shoulder. "I need you to stay here."

Claire's face collapsed into bewilderment. "Here?"

"I need you to find out what's going on – why Raki's staying, why Priscilla didn't kill us, everything. I think… I think it will do you some good." She patted her subordinate on the shoulder. "Take all the time you'll need… I have a feeling you'll need it."

* * *

The sun beat down mercilessly upon Raki as he continued stripping the deer of its meat, but he didn't mind in the least; rather, he welcomed the toil and the suffering - it numbed his mind, purged him of emotion, kept him distant. And distance was what he desperately needed, after the events of the past couple of hours. He suspected Claire was probably in worse shock, which was why she silently made her way to their house with them and even let Priscilla carry one of the Claymores without protest. Like Claire, Raki was still numb from this impossible reunion. _After all these years… she was still looking for me…_

It was having an effect on Priscilla as well. She was worried about him, he knew that much. His wife normally acted aloof, undisturbed by anyone or anything. But Raki, even occupied as he was, caught her sneaking glances in his direction no less than three times in fifteen minutes, which Raki never thought would happen barring doomsday.

_And there she goes again, _he thought as she glanced up from her handiwork. To reassure her he looked up as well, giving her a smile and a wave.

Then he realized that Claire was out on the house patio, staring in his direction. Involuntarily he glanced back down and ducked back into his work.

His guilt was laced with indignation. _Why do I have to feel guilty for staring at Priscilla? By the gods, she's my wife!_ Another part of him was not so quick to agree. _You know exactly why you feel guilty._

To stave off that particular thought, Raki shaded his eyes and looked at the sun's position to see when this maddening day would end. He nodded in satisfaction. _Mid-afternoon, good; Isley will be back soon with -_

_Oh, gods. With them. _Isley would be back with his Miracles. After today, they would be known as his Regrets. Raki chuckled mirthlessly and went back to work with gusto, hacking away the meat to dry or put down for dinner.

Soon enough, Raki sidestepped suddenly; a smooth round stone the size of a medallion thudded heavily against the carcass and landed in the grass.

"An excellent dodge," a smooth baritone voice said behind him. Raki turned and bowed to his teacher and longtime companion Isley, who stepped out from the shadows of the forest edge.

Isley waved the gesture away. "There's no need for that; I'm no longer your teacher."

Raki rose, straightening his tunic. "You may not be my teacher, but you'll always be my better," he said, looking around. "Where are they?"

Isley gestured toward the forest. "I just finished their lesson minutes ago, and told them to clean up the training ground. Knowing them, they'll be along any second now. And your guests have left, save one."

Raki gaped. "Wha-? How did you-! Priscilla said that she couldn't sense any aura from them!"

Isley chuckled. "One does not need to sense yoma energy to follow the movements of another Raki. I was a master swordsman long before I became an abyssal. I have a few skills that you have not yet learned, and probably won't learn for a long time." Isley's gaze drifted past Raki's shoulder; instantly, the young man knew what Isley was looking at. "So that's her, hm?"

Raki's face fell. "Yeah, that's Claire. I think she's still taking it all in."

The long-haired man, nodded. "Still, she should leave. All she will find here is pain."

"Yeah…"

"And you?"

"Huh?"

Isley studied his protégé carefully. "Have you decided to leave with her?"

Raki stammered, taken aback. "How can you ask me that?"

"Raki, the pain on your face is as clear as the sun in the sky. Never for a minute did I think that you had given up waiting for her, even after you wed Priscilla. It was why I asked you to wait – "

Raki winced, but shook his head decisively. "There was nothing we could do. Isley, there was no other way…"

"Still you could make that choice now, follow what's in your heart –"

"No," Raki snapped. "I won't make that choice. What's done is done, and if I back out now, I'd hurt Priscilla… and…" He trailed off for a moment, before turning to Isley with a faint, unhappy smile. "Well, I can't exactly leave now, can I?"

Isley looked up, suddenly aware. "They are coming." He looked at his charge. "Should I introduce Claire to-"

The young man rose. "No, no. I'll do it. They're my responsibility and the sooner Claire knows the better." He turned to walk across to the garden, where they would undoubtedly charge into Priscilla first. "I have one request, Isley; when you do talk to Claire – as I know you'll do eventually – go easy on her. She's going to hurt a lot after this."

He walked off, leaving Isley alone with his thoughts.

_Aren't we all, Raki. Aren't we all…  
_

* * *

Claire did her level best to ignore Raki as he made his way over to the garden, and studied her surroundings. Off to the north across the valley lay a mountain range, making headway difficult. Forest enclosed the area from the east and west, and a river crossed the two in the south. But the clearing itself was a plain, secluded from the rest of the world. 

_Were it not for the fact that we entered the forest on the eastern side, we might never have found them,_ Claire thought, _but it will be hard for large companies to make their way through – an almost perfect sanctuary._

Laughter drifted through the air, trickling into Claire's ears. Despite herself, she turned to look over to the garden. Two small figures darted out from the clearing, half-yelling, half-laughing as they ran toward Priscilla. Priscilla met their charge head-on by bending down on one knee and embracing them both warmly.

Claire frowned, puzzled. _Riful told me that Priscilla ignored the little girls in the villages that she slaughtered, but openly embracing them…?_

Then she saw the silver in their eyes.

She saw Raki reach down to hug them.

She took a step back, foot thudding heavily on the wooden landing. _No. No. Nonononono…_

From afar she saw despondency flicker in Raki's expression as he spoke softly to the two children. Then, turning them around, he guided them towards the cabin's porch.

Raki swallowed visibly before starting in a falsely cheerful tone. "Kids, I'd like you to meet your Aunt Claire. Claire, this is Zaki," he said, indicating the boy on his right – _he looks so much like his father,_ Claire thought. "And this is Melissa," Raki introduced, patting the shoulder of the ponytailed girl on the left.

The children looked at her, and she looked back. The bare facts, laid in front of her, refused to sink in.

They were his children, his family.

Family... that she would never be able to give him.

The girl finally spoke up. "Are you as strong as Papa says you are?"

Mind blank, Claire was at a loss for words. "I…I-"

Raki nudged the…_his_ children gently along. "Now kids, Aunt Claire is tired; let's not bother her with questions. Now, go wash up in the river before dinnertime – you stink after training!" He gave a chuckle, and the children ran back towards the garden with Raki in tow. He gave a look of bottomless apology. "I…need to make sure they really wash up," was all he said before turning away.

_Impossible,_ Claire's mind whispered at her as Raki shrank in the distance. Warriors of the Organization – even awakened ones – weren't supposed to be able to bear children, even after the Organization's forging process. Claire grasped at reason – any reason – why this situation was before her eyes.

_Wait!_ She stared at the children, walking away side by side. _Duph was able to separate parts of his body. What if Priscilla was - ?_ She narrowed her eyes as she probed the yoma aura of the children.

"They are real."

Claire jumped at the sound of the baritone voice coming from behind her. She turned to see a tall man with long white hair standing behind her, massive aura dormant; still, Claire fought not to wobble in the presence of the White-Haired Mountain King, Isley.

_I need to stop getting caught off-guard_, she reprimanded herself. Aloud she said in an even tone, "What do you mean?"

The former top-ranked male warrior looked at her with a smile playing about his lips. "You're thinking what I thought four years ago, when I heard Priscilla was pregnant – that she was simply faking it with pieces of her flesh to create her own family. I myself can control portions of my body remotely, but to do that they would need my aura. If you examine Melissa's and Zaki's auras, they are unique. Not even Priscilla can fake that. I simply assume that through some miracle granted by the gods that Priscilla was able to heal her body and give birth to children again."

Disbelieving, Claire pushed her senses outward and found out that their signatures were indeed different from Priscilla's, and yet –

"They're massive," she whispered.

"No." Isley chuckled as he corrected her. "They're magnificent. At eight summers old, their power is on par with the Creatures of the Abyss. Flawless hybrids, created from the love of a human and the most powerful creature in the land – those children carry the future with them."

Claire turned to Isley, confused. "'Eight summmers?' But you said you found out she was pregnant four years ago."

Isley responded with a shrug. "With the children born as hybrids, we are breaking new ground. They seem to be maturing at twice the rate of humans. I sympathize with Raki – he felt honor bound to marry Priscilla after he found out about the pregnancy, but in a few years he won't be dealing with him as his children, but as his peers."

The woman tried to burn a hole through Isley's head with her glare. "How could you let this happen?"

Isley rocked back on his heels, caught off guard by the accusation. "'How could I let…?' I was away patrolling the lands when they bonded. And when Raki and I found out about the pregnancy, Raki felt obligated to wed her. I could not object – the first time I saw Priscilla embrace Raki in the north, I knew she would be fond of him. After all," he said as he turned back to look at Priscilla, "I gave up my fiefdom for her. I conquered the south – for her. And I will stifle my reservations – for her."

Clare narrowed her gaze at the White-Haired Mountain King. "Stop pretending to be noble, Butcher of Pieta."

Isley chuckled. "Now, there is a title that I haven't heard yet, You call me Butcher; yet, had your friends not made a stand at Pieta, many would still have lived – that is, until the Organization decided that they had no more use for them. Tell me, warrior, who was trying to kill, and who was trying to survive during that battle?"

"You are trying to cloud the issue."

"And you are trying to simplify it," he countered, "to justify your ends. But we are not monsters. We love, we hate, we play and work like any intelligent beings. Would you deny the status of them as well? Of _them,_" Isley gestured towards the children dashing into the woods, "Raki's own flesh and blood?"

Claire's silence was all the answer Isley needed. He stepped past her; over his shoulder he remarked, "After centuries of musing, I finally realized why the gods cast the first man and woman out of paradise after eating the fruit of knowledge of good and evil. Do you know why?"

Claire gave the rote response. "Because they didn't obey the gods' directive."

Isley shook his head as he walked away, back into the forest. "No – it was because man's greatest sin was to presume to know what was good and what was evil afterwards."

* * *

Dinner was an unmitigated disaster. 

Not that anything out of the ordinary happened, no; but it was the expectation and eventual disappointment in something happening that made it a disaster.

After Isley said his goodbyes to the family, Priscilla, Melissa, and Zaki sat down at the dinner table, where Raki had prepared roasted deer flank. Raki rose to get Claire – Priscilla knew that to be her name – from the guest bedroom. Despite herself, Priscilla's senses couldn't help but pick up Raki's soft invitation and Claire's muffled refusal through the door. From the disappointed looks on the children's faces, they heard too.

They all looked up as Raki stepped back into the room, an unreassuringly weak smile on his face.

Zaki spoke first. "Aunty Claire's not coming?"

Raki shook his head as he began portioning out the dinner. "Guess the trip made her more tired than I thought."

The hybrid boy played with his food. "Aww, I wanted to ask her what the Outside was like."

Priscilla and Raki exchanged glances. "You'll get to see what the Outside world is like after Isley says you're finished with training," Raki admonished faintly.

Priscilla placed a hand over her son's. "Don't worry, you'll get your chance."

Melissa chimed in. "Yeah, if you learned to control your ability, we'd probably be out there already!"

"Melissa!" Raki scolded. "You need to learn more tact. Battles may be won with power, but more often than not wars are won with words."

Melissa sank into her seat. "Sorry, papa."

Everything else passed by uneventfully, with the members of the household taking only occasional glances toward the guest bedroom.

Priscilla knew that out of all of them, Raki was the most troubled, and resolved to cheer him up.

Later on that night Priscilla stood in the doorway of their bedroom, careful to keep within the shadows of the candlelight so that Raki would only see her silhouette when he looked up from his clenched fists on the blanket. "So, are the kids asleep?"

"Yes, they are – I can feel that they've calmed down for the night," she said in that soft voice of hers.

"That's good, that's good…"

"And now to calm you down, my husband…" She stepped into the light, and savored the sound of his sudden intake of breath.

She approached him wearing her silken light-pink nightie, his favorite because it reminded him of the first time they made love.

She bent down to kiss him, peeling back the sheet with one hand, the other lightly stroking his cheek. His hands automatically reached around her as he sat her on his lap.

She delighted in his surprise when he realized that she was wearing nothing underneath. Catching his lips up in his, she rose up against him, pushing flesh to the cloth of his pants to tantalize him in ways only she could, with promises of the night to come.

His reaction wasn't what she hoped. Slowly but steadily, he pushed her away.

"Raki?" she breathed, not quite comprehending what he was doing.

"Not tonight," he whispered. His eyes flickered once, to the wall on his right – the wall shared with the guest bedroom. He tried to hide it, but Priscilla caught it. "Maybe tomorrow, but… just not tonight."

Priscilla held his gaze, saw the depths of sadness held there, something that, for all her power, she could not heal.

"I understand," she said softly, and got off the bed to slip into something a little warmer.

When she turned back to him in pajamas, he was already asleep, even in full candlelight. _Today must have been exhausting for him._

And so she ended her evening like she always did – she extinguished the candle's flame between her finger and thumb, got into bed, held her husband close… and pretended he was murmuring her name…instead of another woman's…

To Be Continued

**Author's note: As some of you may have noticed, this is somewhat of a sequel to Sideris' "Lick." I figure it's a good enough launching point for this story.**

**Also, I have cut down the number of expected chapters from six to five. Three and four simply don't have enough content to make them separate chapters, so I'm merging the two.**

**Again, props to the prereaders Ikarus Onesun, Sideris, and Wanderer for their critical eyes.**


	3. Forgiveness Offered

**Disclaimer: Don't own. I wish I was creative enough to say it another way, but this'll have to do for now.**

**Author's Prescript: It is absolutely mandatory to read Manga Volume 11 for this chapter. I have a link in my profile to free manga scans. I suggest reading them - I don't want a hundred comments on how Priscilla is out of character.**

"I don't like this."

Yuma looked up from stoking the fire, surprised at Helen's remark. "This is the best we could do - it's close enough to the clearing, but far enough so they won't track us by the campfire smoke."

"It's not that," Helen snapped. She leaned back, arms folded across her chest, gazing across the fire to her fellow warriors. "It's Claire. She was so hell-bent on getting down here to kill Priscilla, but now that she's found the boy, she goes out of her way to protect him."

Tabitha locked eyes with the irate woman. "It's because she's fallen for him."

Helen snorted. "Ha! Fallen for a trap, more like. She should have cut ties with him as soon as they parted ways."

"You can't help who you love."

"Love?" Helen shook her head. "Such mush isn't for the likes of us. Not with humans," she declared, looking accusingly at Tabitha, "and certainly not with other warriors."

Tabitha flushed and turned away.

"Enough," Miria cut in. "Claire may be...incapacitated at the moment, but her spirit is strong. She will come around to a decision, whatever decision that may be. Even now she is doing us a great service."

Helen turned to her leader, puzzled. "She's helping us? How?"

Now she had everyone's full attention. "You've decided on what to tell the Organization?"

Miria nodded. "Yuma, tell them... tell them that we found Isley."

Yuma's brow furrowed. "But what about Pris -"

"Tell them we found Isley and only Isley, understood?"

The Spirits' courier nodded and melted back into the woods to tell the Organization the partial truth.

Inwardly, Miria sighed. Affiliated with the Organization as they were, the Spirits of Pieta knew that Alicia and Beth could hunt them down at any time, as soon as the Organization realized that they had no more use for an independent covert operations force. But if the twins were sent against a superior force and disabled or killed, the Spirits of Pieta would be able to slip out of the Organization's grasp in the confusion.

All that Miria needed to do was to make sure that Isley, Priscilla, and Raki stayed in one place long enough for the Organization's assault to backfire.

_And Claire's making sure they stay, although she doesn't know it._ Another secret sigh echoed in the leader's mind. _Claire, thank you... and I'm sorry._

* * *

The sun shone down brightly on the rows of plants in the garden, and it gave Priscilla a distant joy to see the crops bloom such a healthy green. _It's good to see life here - there is too much death out in the world._

But the joy was eclipsed by troubled thoughts - thoughts of herself, her husband, and the woman sitting on the porch.

Raki had gone out into the woods again, claiming to go hunting but more likely to think on what has been happening the past few days. Isley took Melissa and Zaki out to train again, which meant Priscilla was alone with Claire, the ruler of her husband's thoughts.

As much as everyone stood in awe of her power, only Priscilla knew the price of it: sensitivity. It hurt to hurt, and it killed to kill. Even fighting off those warriors the day before, Priscilla felt a little part of herself die with every blow to their bodies.

But that was nothing compared to the broken spirit she was now seeing in Claire.

As she glanced up from her fieldwork to regard the warrior with the slumped shoulders, Priscilla thought, _how can any soul bear such sadness?_

Perhaps... it was time to talk to the woman that Raki loved. Perhaps see if there was some forgiveness that could be offered.

Priscilla braced herself with her hands, rising from her knees and eventually brushing the dust from her sundress.

Yes, it was time to talk.

* * *

The here and now were far from Claire's mind as she gazed out toward the Northern mountains across the open plain. Questions hammered at her at such a pace that her sleep-deprived mind couldn't cope. 

What was Raki thinking, all those years ago? Did he give up, thinking that she wouldn't come for him? Is this lifestyle deliberate? And why, in all the Hells, did it have to be _her?_

Claire's questions turned to herself. What was she still doing here anyway? She had seen enough. Perhaps it was best to find the base camp and plan another attack. It sounded better than seeing Priscilla prancing around with her Happily Ever After lifestyle -

"You're angry."

Claire jolted at Priscilla's soft voice coming from beside her. The warrior swore silently as she turned to see the Awakened being sitting on her left, sympathetic eyes on her. She had to resist the temptation to grip her sword.

"Why are you so angry?"

There were so many reasons for being angry at the former warrior next to her, but her emotions choked down all the words that Claire could think of. All she could get out was, "You killed Teresa."

A look of mild confusion crossed Priscilla's face, as if Claire had called her by the wrong name. "Really? I don't remember that. All I remember is being at Ilena's feet... then looking up to see Isley."

"Feh." Claire turned away, disgusted. It didn't surprise her that Priscilla had an excuse handy to explain herself.

But the next words out of Priscilla _did_ surprise her.

"I wish I could remember," the Awakened being said wistfully, "then at least I could feel guilty, and know why you're angry."

Claire turned, eyes widening in shock, but the face of the woman spoke true - that or else she was a very accomplished liar.

Even more shocking was the question Priscilla asked next.

"Will you stay? With us?"

Claire stiffened, paralyzed by the question; she couldn't even react when Priscilla put her hand atop Claire's.

After taking a moment to gather her senses, she turned to Priscilla. "Why are you asking me this?" she whispered.

Chestnut-colored hair fluttered in the wind as Priscilla chose her words. "It is because he keeps you in his heart, always. Even with our family, even with my love, he keeps a secret sadness and a closed heart. And when his heart opens, it's always with your name."

Her eyes shifted away from Claire with her next confession. "Even in ecstasy, it's not my name he calls out... but yours."

Priscilla's eyes turned back to Claire, the firm resolve growing in them matching the tone in her simple truths. "I love Raki; I can't stand to see him sad. I know that you and he used to be happy once. And I think , if you'll join us, he'd be happy again."

A moment passed before Priscilla ventured, "What do you think?"

Claire looked at Priscilla's hand, covering hers. Were it a hand of just another person, Claire might have thought it comforting.

But it was Priscilla's hand. And all Claire could think was, _That was the hand that killed Teresa. How many more lives did those hands take during her mindless rampage?_

She rose, flinging off Priscilla's hand. She made her way down the steps, her back to the former warrior. "Or I could just take Raki and leave, and help him forget all this."

The breeze died.

After a moment of deathly quiet, Priscilla spoke again. "Zaki is Raki's brother's name; Melissa is my sister's."

Claire resisted the temptation to turn around and demand that Priscilla explain the non sequitur.

Priscilla continued on. "I don't remember much of my time in the Organization, but I remember losing my family to yoma. Raki lost his family to yoma, too. We named our children after our brother and sister because we knew our family would live on through them."

A bit of frost crept into Priscilla's voice. "If you take Raki, Melissa and Zaki will go through what Raki and I went through; the breaking of a family. I lost one family to yoma; I won't lose another to you, even if you hold Raki's joy."

The breeze started up again, stronger than before.

"I'm going. Tell Raki...I'm sorry I couldn't stay." And Claire walked into the woods, never once looking back.

* * *

In Staff, in the Organization's headquarters, the members of the Council were parceling, reviewing, drafting, and revising the orders for their warriors. They set about this task with the ruthless efficiency of a money counter with a pile of tithes. Orders were weighed and tailored with every single possibility factored into the decision – the strength of the warrior, the cost to the Organization, the risks involved, all calculated for the most gain and the least risk.

As always, when scheduled business was finished Chief Rimuto scanned the room and asked, "Are there any issues that we have not yet concluded?"

On this particular day, Ermita stepped forth, wrapped in robes as she was. "I have news from the Ghosts of the North."

Pale faces turned toward the handler, interest slightly piqued by the turn of events. Rimuto leaned forward. "News, eh? Miria would not report unless it was important. What does it say?"

Ermita skimmed through the note. "It says that they have found Isley," she summarized.

"Not exactly much for news," the eternally smiling Rubel said, crossing his arms, "Isley's known for his quirks. He could be gone in a day or so."

Rimuto held up his hand to forestall any other comments; the background noise died. "And what does our Shadow say?"

Noise started up again, the scrape of feet could be heard as the council shuffled to look at one another; trouble murmurs wafted about the room.

Palefaced Rado turned to Rimuto. "You sent Luna after them?"

"Luna has suppressed her aura to such a degree that the Ghosts wouldn't notice her," Rimuto retorted, "And she's also above par in her yoma detection ability - it makes her the perfect scout." Turning back to Ermita, the chief asked again, "What news?"

She plucked out the piece of paper from the folds of her robes; even with her face hidden under a swath of cloth, the council could see her surprise. "Luna confirms that they have found Isley, but there's more; they have found Priscilla, a human... and their brood."

As one, the entire Council stiffened. Ermita had their full attention now. "'Their brood' meaning?"

"Exactly as it says. Priscilla's and the man's offspring."

In the ensuing silence, a hushed whisper; "Natural hybrids... after the operation, such a thing should be impossible."

"The impossible has been known to happen from time to time." Rimuto leaned forward. "What details?"

Ermita drank in the report, reading it over more carefully each time. "Luna was very thorough about her findings. There are two children, about eight summers old, twins to be the look of it... and judging by her descriptions of strength, they're each as strong as a Creature of the Abyss."

Rimuto leaned back in his throne, musing. An urgent gleam grew in his eyes. "As young as they are, Priscilla's offspring will grow only more powerful with time. Left unchecked, they could overrun the entire continent. On the other hand, if we retrieve them and educate them in the Organization's ways, they would be powerful assets to our cause. But this must be done quickly; their strength grows with each passing day."

The Chief of the Organization rose from his seat. "By privilege of rank, I am calling upon the Ordinance of Bartholomew to take full control of the Organization. A…specialized force will meet at the base of Mount Shire, to march south upon Priscilla's position – twenty handpicked warriors, Alicia, Beth, and six others whom I will specify."

That was when the uproar started.

"Mount Shire? But it will take _days_ for the forces to arrive and organize! Their regions will be exposed at that time!"

"Summon our ally to the task," Rimuto ordered, "_She_ can gather the warriors together within hours. Be sure to give her our seal so that our warriors won't be alarmed."

"She'll never demean herself to such a menial job."

"Promise her our strongest. Once we take the children of Priscilla, they will be obsolete." As an afterthought Rimuto added in to the clamor, "Tell the Ghosts of the North to meet us at Priscilla's location for the battle."

"After Isley is slain, they will petition for freedom."

Rimuto cracked a rare grin. "And they shall have it, if they can get past _her._"

More objections added to the din:

"It's madness to think that Priscilla's brood can be controlled!"

"Priscilla herself is enough to slay our force - what makes you so certain that we can stand against three-?"

Rimuto held up his hand, calling for silence; the uproar ceased. "The simple facts are this; with the Ghosts of the North, our allies, and several of my personal ...projects, we are at the peak of our strength; theirs is just emerging. We have one chance to be victorious, and victory will mean holding the link between Yoma and Human; unlocking the secret to the Ambrosia of the Gods, what this very Organization has been searching for during the past millennium. We can do this." His grin grew. "For Priscilla does indeed have a weakness; the human that she keeps in her thrall. Kill him and her will to fight will follow. Her offspring, still young, will be easily molded to our indoctrination. But it all relies on this one chance."

He sat back in his seat, lacing his fingers together. "Send the word. Gather the forces. And prepare to journey – the Council will direct this operation from the field."

The world will know; Priscilla's days are numbered."

To be continued...

**Author's Postscript: Saint Priscilla to the fore! Her characterization is based on the fact that she was in tears as she felt the last of the Claymores disappear from her senses in their "death" at Pieta, which is why I suggest you read Volume 11 first to get a sense of where her character's at - aloof and infantile perhaps, but still sensitive to those around her. I find myself amused at the fact that in this fic, the **_**Awakened**_** are trying to push Claire and Raki together, but the participants themselves won't do it. A little irony on my part, I suppose.**

**While I was making the conversation between Priscilla and Claire, I had this one thought: If Adolph Hitler was found in a secluded area somewhere, having lost all of his memories of his crimes and was now a benign, charitable monk, would he still be held accountable for his crimes?**

**Much props to Sideris, Ikarus Onesun, Wanderer and Avalas for Prereading.  
**


	4. Reconciliation

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own. Not creative enough.**

**Also, combat moves are entirely made up and performed by expert verbs and adjectives. DO NOT RE-ENACT. Author is not liable for any injuries incurred.**

It was the moon that gave away Claire's resting place as Deneve trudged through her rounds at the forest edge. The glint of lunar light on her sword gave Deneve a beacon to home in on. When she came around to face Claire, she discovered her fellow warrior's gaze open and level, staring straight back.

No words were exchanged; at the moment, none needed to be. Deneve stabbed her own swordpoint into the ground and joined her comrade in silent contemplation.

The sun was peeking over the hills when Claire rose from her spot. Deneve slipped in front of her, leading the way back to camp.

Only once did they exchange words.

As they were walking, Deneve gave Claire a sidelong glance. "One would think," she commented, "that you and the boy would have a lot to discuss."

To which Claire replied, "there was very little that needed discussing."

The rest of the journey passed in silence.

Though they entered the camp without fanfare, everyone noticed their arrival; Miria looked up from her resting place. "Oh, you're back. It's just as well; Yuma should be back shortly. In fact," Miria added with a frown, "she's later than expected…"

Just then, Yuma crashed into the clearing, gasping. "I know I'm late… but it's not my fault, really…"

Miria nodded sympathetically and held her hand out, giving Yuma a chance to recover. As the younger claymore calmed, Miria leaned forward intently. "What news, Yuma?" 

"Our orders are to march north into the mountains, to join the assault team attacking Isley."

Miria nodded in quiet reflection. "I see. What news, Yuma?"

Said with the exact same cadence and tone as her previous request, a casual listener would assume that Miria had suffered from some short-term memory loss. However, the others understood what this second request meant. Silently, they huddled around Yuma, who drew her sword and uncorked the hilt, where the Black Card was supposed to be. From there she withdrew a tightly-bound scroll and handed it to Miria, who scanned the message and handed it to the others.

_"Do not fault Yuma for the delay in message – the blame is mine, and partly Rimuto's secrecy over the matter._

_He knows of your deception – that any force sent to Isley will be confronted with Priscilla as well. Moreover, he knows of Priscilla's kin, and deems them bounties without peer. He is therefore sending a force that cannot be reckoned with – twenty hand-picked warriors, including Alicia, Beth, and six of his…favored projects. to the last, I cannot begin to speculate. Those projects are kept to the utmost secrecy. But I fear of the possible results of such a gathering._

_For what has been suspected in the past has now been revealed as truth: he shares an alliance with Riful and Duph. Their prize in the aftermath is that which has eluded them for so long – your heads._

_Though you may heed the words at your discretion, my advice is this – hide yourselves well. Your strength is but a pebble against this tide."_

To everyone's surprise, it was Claire and not Helen who could not maintain control. "Impossible," she hissed, "Riful herself said that she couldn't join hands with the Organization. After being at odds with the Council for centuries? Why ally now? The source is lyin –"

"The source is valid," Miria said, cutting her off. She walked back to where her sword stood upright in the ground. "Impossible as the situation may seem, the source would not lie, nor be compromised so easily. We must assume that the situation has progressed to a point where Riful is desperate to win… or stands to gain immeasurable holdings." With a **ching** She sheathed her sword.

Tabitha locked eyes with her commander. "The word, Miria?"

"We flee." Miria looked at each of them in turn. "Riful or no, Rimuto does not gamble. He would send no force unless he was absolutely certain that he could kill or cripple Priscilla. We can't stand against such a force – we will clear all traces that we were ever here, and scatter. If he is smart, Isley will do the same, and if we are lucky, he will be wounded while fleeing. Whatever his condition, we will exact revenge for our comrades."

The other warriors parted, walking towards the respective swords to pull them from the ground. Only one refused to move: Claire.

"And what of Raki," she protested, "With all the yoma energy in the area, how are they to tell that he's human? They could kill him, even though he has no place in the battle. We need to –"

"Leave him."

Helen's words stabbed through Claire like an icicle to the chest. "What?"

Helen's face betrayed no humor, and no malice. "You heard me the first time, Claire. Leave him. You got too close to him, and now he's hurting you worse than a killing blow. He's made his choice and went with awakened beings, even settled down with one. It's for the best that he die like o-"

It was faster than anyone could see, let alone protest. One moment the two were a dozen paces apart, the next instant Claire's fist careened on Helen's cheek.

Helen's head snapped back, but to her credit, she did not stumble. When she looked up all could see the blood dribbling from one side of her mouth.

Silence fell from around the camp so that even the farthest witness could hear Helen declare in a frosty whisper, "You know I'm right."

Claire's gloved hand twisted upward, as if making to reach for her sword. Everyone froze, the air crackling with tension.

But then she lowered her hand, and turned to leave. The tension followed her.

Over her shoulder she said, "I'm going to tell him. I'm going to save him,"

"You go to die," was Helen's parting response.

A moment passed as Claire dissolved back into the shadows before Helen swiped at the trickle of blood with her thumb. "Permission to get cleaned up, Commander."

It was the most formal sentence anyone – including Deneve – had heard out of Helen, and it just compounded the anxiety in the air.

Still, Miria followed in the same vein. "Permission granted. Take as much time as you need. When you're through, seek me out for your duties."

After dismissing Helen, Miria turned to the others. "Tabitha, Cynthia, find and eliminate all our tracks, keeping a look out for the Organization's movements. Deneve, Yuma, clean up the campsite and pack our things for travel. I'll be scouting up ahead."

Their orders given, the Spirits of Pieta wasted no time in implementing them. Three shot off, leaving two behind.

It wasn't long before Yuma nervously tried to make small talk with her taciturn partner. "W-w-wow. I know Helen's cranky about getting beaten up by Priscilla, but did she have to be so mean to Claire?"

Deneve stopped collecting their things and stared at the under-confident warrior, having no patience to treat Yuma with velvet gloves like Miria. "Eight years alongside her, and you still don't understand her."

"What? This Raki person is obviously special to Claire, and Helen had to go and say all that – "

"Helen said all that because it's true," Deneve countered, "And she took no joy in saying it. She understands Claire's position, otherwise Claire wouldn't have lived to blink after she threw that punch."

Realization slowly crossed Yuma's face. "O-oh…"

Deneve sighed. "Let's finish up here. The quicker we can leave this behind us, the better."

* * *

The wind whipped past Claire as she dashed through the forest. 

_Too fast… All of it is happening too fast…_

The revelation of Priscilla and Raki, the Organization, the decay of the Spirits of Pieta, a week's worth of events happening within forty-eight hours – it battered away at Claire's sanity, leaving her confused and frightened and angry. Only one thought kept her from succumbing to the torrent of emotions:

_I need to protect Raki. Even if it's from himself_.

She cherished that cause above all else, even her life.

She found him in short order by the creek where the deer fell, staking out another hunting position. He rose and turned toward her, eyes flickering past her as if expecting the other warriors to have followed her to this place. "You're still here, Claire? Priscilla said you left."

"Raki, the Organization is sending an army of warriors here. They're going to kill Priscilla and Isley, and take your children to be trained as warriors."

Raki's eyes widened and he turned to run, but Claire caught his wrist in a viselike grip before he could take another step.

He squirmed in her grasp. "Claire, let me go! I need to warn them!"

"Raki, wait."

She could feel his pulse under her fingertips as he turned back to her. "My family's in danger and you're asking me to wait?"

"But they were never your family in the first place, were they?"

Raki stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Raki. They're monsters. They always have been, and always will be. No matter how much you try and raise them to be as human as you are, they will still have that hunger for human flesh in their hearts."

She took a breath, looked him straight in the eye, and said, "The Organization will kill them, and if you go, you'll be killed too. Come with me."

To Claire's astonishment, Raki slapped her arm away with surprising strength, a look of betrayal on his face. "Maybe nothing's changed for you, but it did for me. I grew, married, and raised a family. I'm a father, Claire. And as a father, my responsibility is to my children." He turned to head up the creek. "I'm going to warn them."

"You're going to die," Claire said, trying not to wince at the echo of Helen's phrase. "The Organization knows that if they kill you, they break Priscilla's will to live. You can't hope to stand against one warrior, much less twenty."

There was no response save for the shrinking image of Raki's back.

_He's addled. He has lived too long among Isley and Priscilla to be convinced. I will knock him out and make him see reason later. After the Organization's done with Priscilla, he'll thank me._

With a whisper-quiet move, she charged, aiming her elbow at the back of Raki's head –

Except Raki's head wasn't there anymore, it ducked under the swinging arm and Claire felt herself careening to the ground, having tangled in Raki's outstretched leg. Tumbling end over end, she stopped at the edge of the creek.

Scrambling to her feet she saw Raki's accusatory glare in the creek's crystalline reflection. _He was watching my movements in the water?_ She whirled around and saw the determination etched in his face.

"So it comes to this." With a flourish he drew the sword of Rabona from his back. It was surreal – the two close ones, reunited after eight years, now coming to blows. Raki spoke again, a grim edge in his voice. "Yes, I was weak once. I couldn't protect anything. Not anymore. Come, Claire; I'll show you just how strong I've become." With that declaration, he held the sword with the point at eye-level, handle in a double-handed grip tucked near his stomach.

For the first time in a long time, fear filled Claire's heart – fear of a protracted battle, fear of killing the one that she had been searching for. _This shouldn't have happened. This should have been simpler, better._ Her eyes narrowed. _But if I can prove to him that he's not strong enough – if it gets Raki away from Priscilla, so be it!_

She charged head on, the flat of her sword seeking Raki's temple.

But the blow that that should have knocked Raki off his feet glanced off the flat of the longsword, blade supported by one hand while the other still gripped the hilt.

Claire grit her teeth as the swords ground together, but Raki's sword guard wouldn't cave. She stepped back and unleashed a flurry of strikes to no avail. Raki parried against them effortlessly, blade pinwheeling to turn away the blows as he used the hilt as a fulcrum.

_I can't get through his defense from the front… but maybe I can hit him from the back!_

She circled him, trying to get into his blind spot, lashing out with her blade all the while. He matched her speed by pivoting in place, always keeping his front to her and always redirecting her blows with the flat of his blade.

But Claire kept circling, kept striking. _He's only human – he can't keep this up forever – _

Just as Claire brought her sword down on Raki's, he charged, sliding his blade along hers until they were practically nose to nose and hilt was locked to hilt.

_I can't use my sword this close in!_

Claire tried to leap back but found Raki's leading foot pinning her own. Raki broke the sword lock, sending the Claymore blade flying and landing a hilt-blow on Claire's face in one fluid movement, which sent Claire sprawling.

She sat up, panting more with frustration than fatigue. Conversely, Raki was a picture of calm, having not broken a sweat, with eyes and sword leveled at Claire.

The silence lasted only a moment before Raki spoke, bitterness laced in his tone. "You insult me, Claire. Were you expecting me to be as weak as I once was? I'm not. But how can I prove to you that I'm stronger if you won't give me the chance to match against a Claymore's strength?"

He lifted the point of the blade up and away from Claire's face. "Next time you take up your sword against me, don't hold back. If you do," he said as his eyes narrowed, "you will die. Plain and simple."

Claire picked herself up from the ground, head spinning in disbelief. Granted, she had been going easy on him, hoping to knock him out, but she was still fighting at twice the strength and speed of a footman.

She made her way around Raki to where her sword lay. _It's impossible!_ _No human can fight a warrior of the organization and expect to come out alive, much less win. To fight at full strength could kill him_.

She picked up the sword and in the reflection of the blade saw the indignation in his expression… and his waning respect for her. _But would it be better for him to die by my hand than to live with Priscilla?_

In a fluid motion she sheathed the sword, but didn't take her hand off the hilt. "All right, I'll show you what 'full strength' means."

Raki smiled tightly. "That's more like it," he said as he raised his sword yet again.

Claire leapt into the air and swooped down upon him. In the heartbeat before she unleashed the Windcutter, she felt something unusual pulse from within Raki, but it was faint and dwindling rapidly and it wouldn't matter as Flora's move homed in with deadly force –

And skittered against the sword of Rabona, harmlessly whistling through air.

Claire was numb with shock, but training kept her going. Time and again she battered at Raki's defenses with the Windcutter until

**Shing**

In a single move Raki turned aside her sword and swung up and around, levering it out of her hand and disarming her yet again.

Claire's legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground, the will to fight drained from her spirit.

_How? How can a human win against a warrior? _She replayed the fight in her mind. Every move, every slash Raki made.

And then it came to her.

Raki loomed over her; she lifted her head to meet his gaze. "It's efficiency, isn't it. Your fighting style depends on how efficiently you use your strength."

"I prefer to call it the will to win," he said with an unreadable expression. "If one's will is devoted to destroying the enemy, then the enemy will be destroyed one way or another. Similarly, if every ounce of strength, every fiber of muscle is devoted to a blow against an enemy, then there's no way the enemy can defend himself.

"That is the way of Qi – the sword techniques that Isley learned from the continent across the seas. The people there adhere to the philosophy that whoever has the strongest will wins.

"With these techniques, a human can take down even an awakened being."

He held his sword aloft; the blade gleamed in the sunlight. "This strength… it was meant to protect you, to fight alongside you. Now the strength I've gained will protect my family."

Claire tried to bore a hole through his head with a glare. "I don't care how much strength you have. You're still fighting against twenty warriors, all better than me. Even if they lose this time, they'll be back, stronger and in greater numbers! The only way out is if you come with me, away from here. Raki, please…" She pleaded with him as angry tears trickled down her face, "I don't want to lose you again."

Raki cast a sympathetic glance down at her. "I loved you once, Claire… Gods know, I still do. But I cast my lot the moment Zaki and Melissa were born, and to turn my back on them would be to betray myself. This family is more important than me… and more important than you. And if I die, at least my death will be for the ones I gave life to."

He turned away, walking to the outskirts of the trees. Just before he vanished back into the forest he spared her one last, somber look. "Goodbye, Claire."

And he was gone.

Her fingers gouged the ground, clenching and unclenching wads of dirt. _That fool! Doesn't he see? He has no chance. He'll just get himself killed. I'm meant to protect him! He'll definitely come with me, when I kill off Priscilla and her spawn, and then – _

_**And then will Raki be happy with you?**_

The voice that asked was like a cold shock to Claire. It was a voice she didn't hear, yet somehow she knew that she had been listening to it in her darkest times. A voice that resonated with her soul…

But it wasn't the voice of anyone living.

_Teresa?_

_**You know the answer.**_

Claire rallied. _He's suicidal, confused. I need to protect him – _

_**He has shown that he can protect himself just as well, and will turn that strength against you without hesitation. He has grown, and is capable of making his own decisions.**_

_Even if those decisions involve protecting your killer?_

_**Were you protected simply so that you could slaughter children?**_

Without a ready answer, all Claire could do was rock back and forth, arms wrapped around herself, sobbing Teresa's name…

* * *

Raki strode through the forest as smoothly as he was able. He was heading home – toward his wife, towards his kids. 

Why, then, did each step away from Claire hurt his heart more than the last…?

He fell to his knees, the strain of battle finally overcoming his mental defenses. Despite the nonchalant air that he presented to Claire, he did not come away uninjured. The throbbing in his shoulder spoke of his dislocated arm, sharp pains in his limbs and abdomen spoke of muscles strained to the breaking point. But he could not show weakness, not in front of her.

_I guess I haven't mastered the style completely. I was lucky to come out of that alive._ He chuckled inwardly, ending with a coughing fit. _Sorry to disappoint you, Isley…_

The pain in his chest hurt worst of all. Physically, it was bruised ribs and tendons, making it hard to breathe. Emotionally, it felt like his heart was on the verge of collapse.

He dragged himself up and hobbled to a nearby tree. Taking a moment to brace himself, he slammed his shoulder into it, biting down on his lip until it bled to keep himself from screaming.

He leaned against the tree, vision swimming in and out of focus._ Just a little farther, and I'll be back home… Priscilla can fix me that drink of hers, and I'll be able to tell her what's coming. I need to get home… I want to get home… I'm going to protect my family… It's the right thing to do, so why does it hurt to leave Claire?_

_You know why,_ a scornful voice – his own – replied. _It's your guilt – your guilt of abandoning her. She pledged to find you no matter what it took, but you were weak and lost faith in her. After all the trouble she went through to find you, this is how you repay her – by refusing her help and fighting her for your pride._

Raki grit his teeth, rallying against the voice. _I chose my course long ago; I will stay with it. It's not for me anymore. Or…for Claire. It's for my family too._

_But does that make this choice any less wrong?_ The other voice asked.

Something tickled Raki's cheek. He swiped at it; his fingers came away moist. He looked down at his fingertips, but couldn't see through the blur of tears.

He caved.

He slumped against the tree heavily, limp as a ragdoll. Like a plea for help, his whispers cut through the forest.

"Stop crying, goddamnit… stop crying…"

But no one was there to offer sympathy.

To Be Concluded.

**Author's Postscript: There are times when the planets align, the words flow directly from the mind to the paper, and all is right with the world.**

**That's the Helen/Claire confrontation of this chapter.**

**Then there are times when it becomes a quagmire.**

**That's the Raki/Claire fight.**

**No joke, that was the hardest segment by far. Prereaders have advised against this fight, because the logistics of it are impossible. They say that in order to beat Claire, Raki would have to be as strong and as fast (or stronger and faster), which means that Isley would have to outfit him with some serious yoma flesh. If he remained human, he'd lose. Plain and simple.**

**Yet, this goes against the plot of the story. Raki needs to be human or else Claire would sense the energy and beat him. It's also my interpretation, take it as you will, that Raki would want to be stronger than Claire under his own power, i.e. not use the power of the yoma.**

**Thus, when logic and plot conflict, the writing pace for the story slows to a pace somewhat akin to molasses crawling uphill.**

**You the reader may factor every condition possible – Claire's psychological barriers to harm Raki, her refusal to use yoma energy, Raki's exceptional skill – and still find the outcome dubious. To this end I have one more factor that not even Raki is aware of, which will be revealed in the final chapter.**

**In any case, I hope you still enjoy reading this. Look forward to a conclusion soon. **

**Much obliged to Ikarus Onesun and Wanderer for prereading.**

** Author's Addendum, version 2: So Avalas gets back to me literally milliseconds after I submit this chapter. He tells me of some stylistic problems as he reads, and then gets to the Raki/Claire fight.**

** That's when he calls Raki a Gary Stu. And he's right. Anyone who fights without breaking a sweat, anyone who can still wield a sword even after one arm's dislocated, basically any human who can achieve the impossible is a Gary Stu in this world.**

**I've struggled with altering the storyline to make it more valid. But the muse won't let me - there are alternatives that I see, but their outcomes I can't create without destroying the vision and ultimate conclusion of the story.**

**And with the advent of Claymore scanlation 74, I realize I can't wait any longer. Norihiro is catching up, and if I wait too long he'll invalidate my version of events with canon.**

**As much as I respect Avalas, I'm submitting this version of events until I reach the conclusion. Afterwards I'll start from the ground up.**

**I apologize to you the reader. I've failed, both as a Claymore fan and as a writer. Please forgive me. **


End file.
